So my Nikon came back yesterday, finally. But now my Hasselblad and my Mamiya are toast.
The Summer the Cameras Died.
We traveled out of town last Saturday so I could spend the day photographing someone for a project I am working on. Late this afternoon I enjoyed a strong coffee with a friend followed by a half hour sitting alone quietly in my community garden soaking up the lull of chirping crickets, peaceful solitude, and the gentle hum of the beer store fridges. Returning home feeling energetic and relaxed I was met by Davin's grim face. He had just returned home with my film and it turns out that all of it was blank short of four non-project-related photos in the middle of one roll. Gah. And by "gah" I mean FUCKITY FUCK FUCK.*
Ironically enough, the shittiest medium format camera of the bunch -- the one that is basically held together with tape -- marches on. I'm far too invested in rational thinking to be superstitious yet I am almost afraid to commit that to writing for fear that camera will go next. Especially since I scanned a roll taken on a whim at one of the sessions and I really like it. A friend tried to console me with the suggestion that maybe these set-backs will force me to innovate to which I replied, "But I already know what I want to do. What can I learn from blank film?"
Maybe I was wrong. But only just a little bit.
* Interestingly enough spell check confirms that both "shittest" and "fuck" are correct spellings but "gah" is not. Neither is "fuckity."
Song: "Rock Music" The Pixies